The Ghosts that Haunt Us
by Daylight
Summary: We all have ghosts that haunt us, some more literally than others. Set in 5x04's futureverse


**The Ghosts that Haunt Us**

**By Daylight**

Cas staggered out of his cabin squinting in the late morning sunlight. He made it as far as the front steps before deciding he'd gone far enough and plopping gracelessly down on the top step careful not to spill any of the spirits from the bottle clenched tightly in his right fist. Gazing blearily out at the people moving about their little refuge camp, he took a long draught from the bottle and let out a contented sigh.

This was the good stuff.

Cas, because he was Cas now, it had been a long time since anyone had called him Castiel, had gotten quite adept at scrounging booze and drugs whenever he went out on salvage missions. While others kept their eyes out for unlooted supermarkets, Cas had the uncanny ability of locating the nearby pharmacies and liquor stores. He'd out done himself this time though. The absinthe had been quite a find.

A sudden cold wind sent a shiver down the length of his spine.

"You know typically when people drink absinthe they add sugar and dilute it with water," came a voice from beside him.

Ignoring the voice, Cas took another long drink admiring the way the light reflected off the bottle's green glass.

"Well, I suppose sugar might be a bit hard to come by in these times, even clean water is scarce, yet somehow you always seem to have plenty of alcohol."

Cas caught sight of Dean and his eyes followed their fearless leader as he trudged his way through the mud at the far end of the compound, Chuck following close behind him, clipboard in hand. The pair soon disappeared into one of the other cabins.

"It was brandy last week, wasn't it? You have quite diverse tastes.'

Leaning forward, Castiel picked absently at the dirt under his toe nails. Unsurprisingly, he had managed to stumble outside without his shoes again. His feet were pale, the nails yellowed and cracked.

"Did you know absinthe has often been thought to cause hallucinations?"

Though he refused to acknowledge him, Cas couldn't help letting his eyes drift slightly in the direction of the voice, catching the man just out of the corner of his eye. The man sitting next to him was a sharp contrast to the other occupants of the camp. His black dress shoes were free of mud. His light shirt, dark pants and tie were carefully pressed and unsullied by blood stains. His hair was neatly combed and his face clean shaven. Cas ran a hand over his own growing beard. Shaving had never become a habit of his.

"But I'm sure you've got plenty of better stuff if you really wanted to hallucinate."

The former angel could feel the man's cold eyes watching him as he took another long drink.

"The things that must be doing to your liver."

The alcohol burnt bitterly his mouth.

"Sorry, my liver."

Cas put the bottle down beside him on the worn, wood deck and wrapped his arms around his bent knees.

"I don't even want to know what sort of diseases you've picked up from your other diversions."

One of the young women of the camp walked by carrying a load of blankets. She sent Cas a shy smile. He didn't smile back.

"Did you know Claire would be 16 now? She was quite the artist."

Bowing his head, Cas gritted his teeth.

"She even used to draw angels complete with fluffy, white wings and shiny, golden halos. Of course, we both know angels don't look anything like that, don't we."

"What do you want from me?" Cas spat out as he finally turned towards the man.

"How about my life back?" replied he, the mirror image of his face wearing a bitter smile. "Of course, since you seem to be stuck and I'm, well, dead, it doesn't look like that will be possible."

"Then why don't you just leave me alone?"

People continued walking by showing no reaction to the sight of the scruffy man in bare feet yelling at the empty air.

"You know I can't," said the spirit shaking his head. "There's only one way I can leave. Ask Dean. He knows the drill."

Turning away, Cas grabbed the bottle of absinthe once more, gripping it so tightly while he drank that his knuckles shone white.

"Salt 'n burn, Cas. All you have to do is salt and burn my bones."


End file.
